


A Happily Ever After Connecticut Holiday Season

by carolinenite



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Happy Ending, Holidays, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinenite/pseuds/carolinenite
Summary: Will and Mac are still fighting their way back together through the wreckage of their past... when the holidays arrive, will they finally find their way home to each other?
Relationships: Charlie Skinner/Nancy Skinner, Reese Lansing/Rebecca Halliday, Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 66
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To my dearest Newsroom Fandom family,
> 
> It's been such a long time since I've been able to create anything worth sharing with y'all. I've got plans and dreams for this piece, but I can't promise you any kind of a schedule for updates. Please know that I will, eventually, finish this story and that it will 100% be a happy ending!
> 
> I've missed our interactions, and I look forward to hearing from you!  
> C

William Duncan McAvoy finished tucking in his shirt and surveyed his reflection in the mirror with a heavy sigh. Thanksgiving was a holiday that he preferred to spend alone, on the couch, drinking heavily, watching football, and not confronting the loneliness of a holiday traditionally filled with loved ones. With more force than was technically necessary, he flipped the light switch toward darkness and left his bedroom. Seconds later, he reentered the room and walked purposefully into his closet, tugging out the tails of the oxford shirt and unbuttoning it as he moved. When he reemerged, he was buttoning a green and blue plaid flannel that he tucked into the front of his jeans. Rechecking the mirror, he smiled faintly this time. If he was going to schlep all the way to Nancy and Charlie’s in Connecticut, he might as well make the most of it, he reasoned, and dressing like he was about to go on-air just didn’t set the right tone. He would go, have dinner, and be home by eight at the latest. Feeling much more festive with a plan in mind, Will rang out for a ride. A short time later, he settled himself in the back of the SUV that his service had dispatched to carry him between locations and actively squashed any thoughts of Mackenzie, who she might be with on this holiday and whether it was too much to hope that she was secretly wondering about him. 

Arriving at the Skinner’s home reminded Will of what he imagined a tender, traditional, Thanksgiving homecoming would feel like if his life had gone in a different direction. Nancy Skinner met Will with arms open wide as he made his way up the walk, kissing him quickly on both cheeks and welcoming him to thanksgiving.

“It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence on Thanksgiving, Will,” she said with feigned scolding.

“I know, Nance. It’s been busy,” he paused, hating the sound of the flimsy excuse on his lips. “You know how it’s been.”

“You’re here now,” she said, gently squeezing his arms. “That’s what matters.”

Charlie’s voice boomed into the foyer before Will could articulate a response.

“William Duncan McAvoy!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Charlie,” Will’s voice conveyed warmth and genuine affection.

“Welcome, welcome!” Charlie’s voice echoed with warmth, both real and alcohol-fueled. “Let’s get you a drink. About to carve the bird.” He turned, indicating that Will should follow, and began to regale Will with the different methods for effectively separating the meat of a turkey from its body, noting with a snort that CNN had earlier in the day advocated for an electric knife approach. “That kind of bullshit journalism doesn’t even belong on Fox!” he raged. Will grinned and shook his head, accepting the single malt that Charlie thrust into his hand with a grunt of acknowledgment, unable to insert a word edgewise.

Charlie carved the turkey with aplomb and passed slices around the table with the dignity that he felt befitted a bird of its size. He offered a blessing, and when it rambled a little longer than was necessary, Nancy gently squeezed his forearm. Charlie wrapped up his pontificating benediction with a watery smile and thanks to all for the gift of their presence at their Thanksgiving table. And with that, dinner commenced. The conversation flowed easily and was peppered with laughter and good-natured ribbing. Katie, Charlie’s youngest, was seated to Will’s left, and it seemed to him that her sole mission at the Thanksgiving table was keeping both her and his glass adequately full of liquor.

“You don’t think we’ve probably both had enough?” Will asked after she topped off his drink again.

“Are you getting old on me, Will? It used to be that you could drink me under the table.”

“Well, first, you’re twenty-two, five foot nothing, and about 100 pounds soaking wet. I wouldn’t ever put my drinking prowess up against you. You’d quite literally be dead. And second, yeah, I might be getting old.”

Katie laughed and pressed a sisterly kiss to Will’s cheek. “I still love you, even though you’re old.”

Will accepted the teasing with a smile. He loved these people; these were _his_ people. They were Mackenzie’s people, too, realized with chagrin. If he was here, feeling loved and enjoying the holiday, he wondered then where she might be and if her holiday joy was tempered with an emptiness that mirrored his.

Clearing the table from dinner was a group effort; the initial clearing up would need to be finished before anyone could be served pie—Charlie’s rule after one too many day-after-Thanksgiving cleaning-fests. Charlie’s phone dinged while everyone was in the kitchen, washing dishes and tidying up. His eyebrows climbed comically high on his forehead, and he sucked in a low whistle.

“Leona will be joining us for cocktails and dessert,” he stated with a matter of fact nod.

“She what?” Nancy’s head came around the cupboard door, eyes wide.

“She tried to set Reese up with someone over the holiday meal—” Charlie was cut off by Katie’s interjection.

“Probably some unsuspecting, ingénue-esque protégé. Poor thing.”

“Apparently,” Charlie continued with a hard glance at his daughter, “not only was the girl appalled, but Reese also surprised Leona by bringing his own date.” He paused for effect and caught Will’s eye. “You remember Leona’s friend, Rebecca Halliday?”

“Tell me he didn’t,” Will said, genuinely surprised.

“He certainly did.” Charlie nodded solemnly, but he was unable to keep the mirth from his eyes. “So, we will delay our dessert until Leona and the ingénue arrive. It’s the least we can do.”

Will chuckled to himself and returned to drying the crystal wine glasses that one of Charlie’s sons-in-law had gingerly hand-washed. He had planned to excuse himself before dessert and have his car return him to the city, but this new development was just interesting enough to tempt him into staying for a slice of pie. He set the final glass on its shelf, just as Katie came back into the kitchen bearing a new liquor bottle.

“Will! Look what I dug out of Dad’s study!”

“Kate, that’s… that’s a really good bottle.” Will examined the label for a moment. The bottle Katie presented cost more than even he was comfortable spending on something consumable.

“I _know_ , Will. That’s why I pinched it.”

“It’s a holiday, Will,” Charlie called from across the room. “Live a little!”

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Will smiled again, accepting the now-poured drink from the college student who he feared might actually be able to drink him under the table at this point.

“Will?”

Will turned toward the young voice vying for his attention.

“Beau! We haven’t gotten to catch up at all. How are you, bud?”

“Pretty good. I picked up the standup bass recently. Pretty fun instrument.”

“Yeah? How’s the band?”

“Mom says it’s diverting, but I’m having fun.” Will nodded his understanding. “Wanna come out to the garage and see the setup?”

“Absolutely,” Will said without hesitation.

Half an hour later, Will felt much more sober, and he was thoroughly in awe of the young musician in front of him. The jam session had done him good in myriad ways, not the least of which was to separate him from the scotch bottle for a while.

“You think there’s pie, yet?” Beau asked as they finished another rambling tune.

“I bet we can find out.” Will set the young man’s guitar in its stand, clapped a hand on Beau’s shoulder, and they headed back toward the house. Will noted Leona’s town car parked at the end of the drive. “You’re really talented, Beau, genuinely. If there’s ever anything I can do to encourage you or help at all…” He let the sentence trail as they pulled open the back door.

“Thanks, Will. I will. Honest.”

They came through the hallway into the kitchen, and Will started to say something else encouraging to Beau when he was brought up short. The sound of a not unfamiliar but thoroughly unexpected laugh stopped him in his tracks. She turned as if sensing his presence.

“Hi, Will.” Her eyes were full of uncertainty. He knew her tone; it was the same one that she had unconsciously used the first day she had come back into their newsroom.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mac,” he offered, seeming to be as unsure as she was.

Behind Mackenzie, Charlie’s eyes went frantically wide, and he shrugged and shook his head; obviously, he wasn’t expecting her either, if his comical expression was any indication. It took Will a moment longer than it might have had he not been sipping scotch for several hours, but the pieces slid into place, and he began to chuckle.

“Mac,” he said around his building laughter, “you’re the one Leona tried to set up with Reese?” She nodded with a wry smile. Will laughed harder, and then the whole room was infected with the uproarious mirth. Finally, Will put his arm around Mackenzie’s shoulder and tucked her in alongside him, very friendly and mildly proprietary. “Katie, get this woman a scotch. Some of the good stuff. It seems that she’s earned it today.”

Leona narrowed her eyes at the scene unfolding in front of her and mumbled that it had been a good idea and that people really should capitulate to her vision. Nancy smiled and handed Leona a drink with a slightly disbelieving shake of her head.

After the pie had been consumed, Will found himself on the couch in the Skinner’s den watching football. Mackenzie was tucked squarely in beside him, feet up on the sofa, back resting against Will, who had twisted himself into some sort of a Windsor knot to keep both feet on the floor and still have a nook for her to rest within. The room was still relatively full of family and friends; the drinks still flowed liberally. Will found his thumb tracing a pattern on Mac’s shoulder, back and forth, and he was startled to realize that it was entirely a subconscious motion. An hour previous, and only about an hour after arriving in Connecticut, Leona had announced that she was finished with Thanksgiving festivities for the year and that she had work to do.

“I’ll find my way back to the city,” Mac had said, still leaning against Will in the kitchen. “I’m rather enjoying the company.”

And so, Will’s arm was asleep, just on the verge of full numbness, tingling with the pins and needles of compromised circulation while he continued to trace a mindless pattern into her sweater. He knew that Mackenzie was unaware of how aligned their bodies had become as they sat. She was relaxed into him, comfortable and familiar against his body. Charlie let out a comical wolf-whistle at the sight of the cheerleaders on television. They were celebrating the victory of their team, and given Will’s well-documented love of the contact sport, he was surprised to note that he had no recollection of the game and no emotional investment in the outcome. He was summarily preoccupied with the woman in his arms, and, as he turned it over in his mind, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it or what to do with the information that she had driven him to distraction by virtue of her sheer presence.

“Whatdya say, McAvoy? You think we’re ready to start forecasting sports?”

Will chuckled. It was a low sound that rumbled in his chest before spilling out into a laugh. He felt it the moment that her body registered the intimacy of their current position, brought to awareness by the vibration of his laugh. She stiffened, startled.

“I don’t think so, Charlie,” Will began carefully. His thumb changed its pattern on her shoulder, silently encouraging her to stay where she was. “I kinda like the news that I’m doing right now.” He offered a small squeeze to her shoulder, attempting to reassure her. He sucked in a quick breath, the numbness in his fingers shooting pain through his arm to the shoulder.

“Probably right,” Charlie said, standing to refill his glass from the wet bar in the corner. “I don’t know how much good either of us would be at color commentary.” He took in the empty glasses around him. “Refill, anyone?”

Nancy got to her feet from her position on the floor in front of Charlie’s chair. It was her preferred resting place, and after all these years, Charlie had given up trying to tempt her into a chair. She stretched and yawned.

“I think that I’m just about exhausted for this Thanksgiving,”

At Nancy’s words, Charlie immediately replaced the bottle that he had lifted to offer refills. He crossed the room and draped an arm around her shoulders. 

“You make a pot of tea, and I’ll be up after while.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“Will, Mac, it’s been lovely having you both here again.” Nancy smiled and turned to her children and grandchildren scattered around the large room. “All of you—bread pudding and egg white omelets for breakfast.” Turning back toward the couch, she continued, “Mackenzie, it’s been a few years since you’ve joined us, but you know you’re welcome to stay over. It’s a long drive back to the city. Will, I know I don’t have to tell you that you’ve always got a place at our breakfast table.” She smiled at her and moved to retire for the evening. “Happy Thanksgiving, my darling family,” she said over her shoulder as she went. Nancy was met with a chorus of happy thanksgivings and good nights. Charlie crossed the space between them in two long paces and turned her gently back. Nancy kissed Charlie lightly on the lips and allowed their foreheads to rest against each other for a brief moment. “Good night, my love.”

“I’ll be up in a bit.”

Will felt like a voyeur watching the intimate scene unfold between the Skinners and their immediate family. Yet, in the same breath that he wanted to look away, he longed for the abiding bonds that Charlie and Nancy shared with each other and their children. Mackenzie’s body pulled away from his, and Will watched her rise with a sense of loss. She looked around the room, taking in this family, these people with whom she had spent holidays and weekends. They had been her family, too, before. She loved them, but she had been gone for what felt like too long. She felt out of place here, just slightly out of step. As she started to spiral into her endless list of ‘what might have beens,’ Will put his hand on her shoulder.

“How ‘bout a ride back to the city, Mac?” There was a world of understanding in his eyes, and relief flooded her features.

“Thanks, Billy. I’d like that.”

The look they shared was one of mutual pain and longing. An entire conversation passed between them in that moment, and though it resolved nothing, the communal meal and their time in Connecticut was the first step toward peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the small break between classes, my creative parts are thriving! I hope you enjoy this chapter-- and I'm hoping to have chapter 3 to you sooner rather than later.

After fifteen minutes in the darkness of the SUV carrying them back to the city, Will felt Mackenzie's head on his shoulder. The slight heaviness of Mac's breathing told him that she was asleep, that the physical contact was accidental—instinctive, maybe, but unintentional. Disappointment shot through him, and for a moment, he fought against it. Wanting her to desire the casual intimacy of that physical contact was incongruous to the lives that they led, regardless of the Thanksgiving evening they had shared. The SUV was conveying them away from the suspended reality in which the Skinner's home had enveloped them. They were returning to their respective homes, breaking the spell of the holiday. Tomorrow, they would once again be Will and Mackenzie, star-crossed ex-lovers. And that was how it was. Will stiffened at his own thoughts, realizing for the first time that the status quo of constant tension between him and the woman sleeping on his shoulder was held in stasis by his actions and his actions alone.

"Fuck," he whispered into the darkness. He continued to turn the revelation over in his mind until the voice of their driver broke through.

"Mr. McAvoy?"

"It's Will."

"Just one stop tonight, sir?"

"Two," Will responded without pausing to consider the question. He slipped immediately back into his thoughts.

"Mr. –err Will?" Will's head didn't turn away from the window, so the man tried again, just a little louder. "Mr. McAvoy?" This time, Will looked toward the rearview mirror, meeting the eyes of the driver.

"Hmm?"

"Two stops."

"Yeah." His tone was clipped; Will's thoughts flooded with images of taking Mackenzie home, taking Mackenzie to bed, taking Mackenzie as his own once again.

"What's the other address?"

"Hell." Will realized that he didn't actually know where Mackenzie lived. Midtown, sure, but, in case of emergency, Will would be bribing Millie to get into ACN's HR files to find her address. Will didn't like the way that tasted, not one bit. "Midtown." He watched eyebrows raise slightly at the nonspecific answer. "I'll get back to you." He racked his brain. Did he really not know where Mackenzie, whose presence in his life he was beginning to again take as a given… did he really not know where she lived? With intention, he lifted his shoulders and dropped them quickly. Mac shifted but did not rouse. "Mac?" He was met with a noncommittal grunt. "Honey, what's your address?" The mumbled numbers she offered made no sense, and he shook her gently. "Come on, Mackenzie. Wake up."

Mackenzie opened her eyes and smiled serenely at Will for a moment. As her consciousness made its way past the haze of her unconscious dreaming, her smile faded; the realization that her head and body were pressed against Will jarred her back to reality so quickly that it caused an almost instant headache. She sat bolt upright and pressed her fingers hard into her eye sockets, trying to meet pressure with pressure. Will read the momentary panic and saw pain and anxiety flood Mackenzie's features before she had jammed her fingers to her face. That was his fault, too, he realized.

"Christ on a cracker," he mumbled. This was supposed to be a friendly ride into the city to save Mackenzie from waiting for a car to be dispatched to Connecticut. He wasn't planning on being struck with truth; he wasn't planning to understand anything about how to manage his own happiness at the end of the ride that he didn't know at the beginning.

"What… what did you say?" She groped for the question that had been flitting at the edge of her consciousness, unable to find it in the darkness of the car and the shock of waking up with Will's warmth flooding her system. She felt her hand being pulled into his; his thumb traced soothing circles across the back of it.

"You're okay." His tone was husky in its reassurance of her. She nodded mutely in the darkness, but he must have felt the tension in her body because he continued. "I need your address." She gave it without hesitation and tried to slide her body away from the direct contact it made with Will. He tightened an arm around her, holding her tight to him for a brief second until he felt her capitulate. His thumb continued to slide back and forth against the back of her hand, though the motion was more for him than her in that moment.

"Will," she exhaled his name but offered no other words. They rode in silence, the prolonged physical contact weighing heavily on them both, but neither moved away from the other, loathe to end their tacit treaty before it was necessary.

"I didn't like that I didn't know your address. I didn't like how that felt."

The car slowed, coming to a stop in front of the building to which Will had directed the driver. Will opened the door and slid out into the night. The cold of the Manhattan evening was intensified by the loss of the warmth of Mackenzie's body pressed against his. He reached for her, taking her hand and gently tugging her out of the vehicle. "No kidding, Mac."

"What do you want me to say, Will? This is my reality. This is where we are."

"How can we change that?" Will's eyes locked with Mackenzie's. The conversation felt, with his last question, incredibly high stakes.

"Will. Stop. You've had too much single malt. You're basking in the glow of a Skinner family holiday, and tomorrow, when we're back to being the people we are when Nancy isn't finagling us into intimate moments and Charlie isn't looking between us like his faith is restored in the world… tomorrow, you're not going to have warm feelings about this conversation." She paused, silently debating stepping out of his grasp. "Single malt and a holiday. That's what's you're feeling right now."

"I'm not drunk, Mac. Not even close. I may be seeing things clearly for the first time in many years, in point of fact."

At that, Mackenzie stepped back, freeing herself from his grasp. She turned toward her door and then back toward Will. The uncertainty in her posture was mirrored in her tone when she finally spoke.

"Walk me upstairs?"

Will stared hard at Mackenzie, searching her face for something, desperate to find it there. "Are you sure?" His tone was as uncertain as hers had been in the moments before, but his longing for her shone past any doubts lingering in her mind. Mackenzie nodded slowly, but with clear intention. Will turned back to the car, pulled his coat from the back seat, and, with a handsome tip, dismissed the driver. He watched the car pull away from the curb, using the time to collect his thoughts. When Will turned back to Mackenzie, he offered her a tentative smile.

"Thirty seconds ago, this seemed like an easy choice," she offered with a shrug.

"Do you want me to go?" He spoke quickly, the words tumbling over themselves to present themselves to her.

"No. No! I just meant…" She paused. They both understood what she meant, and it didn't bear rehashing in the night air in front of her apartment. "It's cold out here. Come upstairs, Billy. We'll put on the fire and have a glass of wine. And if that goes well, maybe we can have a conversation."

"Mac, you realize it's only 9:30?"

"Seriously?"

"Apparently, we're living an entire life this Thanksgiving day." Mackenzie handed Will a glass of wine. He accepted it with a smile and surveyed her living space again. "You've done a nice job with this place, hon. It's great."

"I've always loved midtown. And this place was available and affordable," she laughed through the end of her explanation. "The fireplace is what sold me, though. Shall I?" She gestured to it, and Will nodded. Mackenzie turned the key in the wall, and the gas fireplace roared to life. "Voila." She gestured with Vanna White-arms to the newly created fire.

"Efficient."

"And convenient."

"A real fireplace with real fire." They stood, eyes bouncing between the fire and the other person in the room. "We used to be better at this."

"Feels like we're both standing in our corners, waiting for the bell to ring."

"A sports simile?" His teasing remark served to cover his regret, at least to mask it from Mackenzie. It was, again, his fault that her expectation of their every interaction had her suiting up for a fight. She retired to the couch, tucking her feet under her as she settled. Will settled at the other end, a respectable but small distance between them.

"Can't help but love a man who knows the difference between a simile and a metaphor." She swirled her wine in the glass, watching the firelight dance in the crimson of the liquid. The offhanded comment lingered between them, giving it more weight than she had intended.

"Do you, Mac?"

"Hmm?" She looked up then, meeting his gaze.

"Do you love me? Even now?"

"It's not rational, the way that you reacted." Mackenzie pivoted off of the question he posed; they each knew the answer.

"I know."

"So why, Billy?"

"I don't know. I was afraid of how strong the feelings that I had for you were. I hadn't felt that way. Ever. I think I was looking for holes. My parents… it wasn't a good marriage. They weren't happy. Us kids weren't happy."

"I know that," she interjected quietly. He met her gaze for a moment, acknowledging the depth of their shared connection and the intimate knowledge of each other that they possessed.

"Waking up happy every day with you, it scared the hell out of me. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"And it didn't."

"Until it did."

"But it didn't, Will. It was so long ago. It was before…". But, Will continued as though he hadn't heard her.

"It felt like the other shoe dropped," he paused, weighing his words carefully. "At least I manufactured that feeling in my head. So, I ended it. It was better to be over, to be alone, and live in my bitter cave than to wonder and wait. I didn't know how to breathe without you, and I… Jesus, Mac, I had to be in control of my own oxygen."

"How much did that cost you?"

"About twelve grand in direct bills to Habib and another six or seven in apology baskets to the clients I interrupted when I was feeling particularly prickly."

"That's…"

"A steal at twice the price?" Will cut her off before she could formulate a response. He wasn't ready to hear her thoughts, and he was prepared to manufacture a few moments of misdirection to buy himself another moment of hoping that he was redeemable to her.

"Something like that, I guess." She smiled at him. For the next several minutes, they sat in silence, sipping their drinks and staring into the fire. In the quiet, they both replayed moments from their shared past on a loop in their minds. Missed opportunities lingered in the forefront of their memories, swirling like so many dust bunnies in the long-abandoned attic of their relationship.

"What now, Mac?"

"I'm not entirely convinced that what you're experiencing isn't some turkey-fueled short-term epiphany. Or maybe I'm having a cranberry sauce induced hallucination." Her smile was real, though. The atmosphere between them shifted with Will's confession, and the awkwardness was gone. He reached across the sofa and cupped her face in his hand. The pad of his thumb traced a line down her cheek and across her bottom lip. Mac's eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

"Does this feel like a hallucination, Mackenzie?" She shook her head with just enough force to communicate and not to dislodge his hand. He closed the gap between them and brought his face only a hairsbreadth from hers. He pressed a featherlight kiss to her temple, and then to her cheek, and then, after coaxing her lips into a pout with his thumb, he kissed her fully, capturing her bottom lip between his and sucking it lightly. The kiss deepened, and Mackenzie fell back further onto the sofa. Will followed her down, shifting his body to cover hers. As the kiss ended, Mackenzie felt warmth flood her veins. "You feel real to me, Mac. This feels real."

Their foreheads rested against each other, and they soaked in the nearness of each other.

"Oh, Will," Mackenzie whispered.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Mackenzie," he offered, catching her lips for another tender kiss.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Billy." Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Will's neck and gave herself over to the sensations that Will was awakening in her.

She could worry about what it all meant tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!  
> xoxo,  
> C


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holiday season, my loves! I'm trying to balance it all, and I think I've got a good writing schedule. Keep your fingers crossed for me, because we might just be able to have a chapter per week through the end of the year to wrap this story up.

Mackenzie’s eyes opened slowly, remnants of a delicious dream receding from the edges of her consciousness. Will’s mouth on hers, his hands everywhere on her body… delicious bliss. It seemed so real… Mackenzie’s eyes opened fully then. The bed next to her was empty, but the space that he had occupied was still warm.

“Billy?” The sound of her voice echoed through an otherwise empty apartment. “Will, are you here?” She tried again.

The resonance of her voice in an unoccupied space told her all that she needed to know. Mackenzie closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Her mind began to race through implications, from work to the future, or lack of one, as the case may be. Another deep breath and Mackenzie forced herself into a small smile. Maybe it was just the one night, but it was also fuel for the journey; it was a rest stop on the road toward real reconciliation. Mac’s forced smile became a real one. There was nothing to regret about the impulsive decision to invite Will up to her apartment last night; everything had felt right, sharing a holiday with him, feeling him deep inside of her, falling asleep sated in his arms. She reached to scrub her hand across her eyes, clearing the sleep from her vision. She traced the line of her throat and allowed her hand to rest on her collarbone, the place where Will had trailed his tongue back and forth, tasting her skin. 

Her body tightened in remembrance. He had hovered over her body, kissing every part of her that his mouth reached. He had driven into her over and over, their bodies matched as perfectly as they had been years before. Mackenzie’s breath quickened as her hand trailed lower, across her chest, down her stomach. The memories of Will’s touch, of being driven to release again and again, brought forth an immediate physical response. Her fingers dipped lower, and she was unsurprised to find herself both ready and also tender from the previous night’s assignation. 

“Oh, Will,” she sighed, losing herself in the memory of the night.

She tumbled into a quick, easy climax and smiled as her breathing returned to normal. As she lay in the bed, she allowed her thoughts to roll over and over themselves for several moments, processing the events of the last day: Thanksgiving at the Skinners, their car ride back to the city, the night spent in a mutual passion, and finding him gone this morning. Eventually, she shook her head, putting a stop to the whirring of her mind.

“I don’t regret it,” she said aloud to the empty space. There was nothing about being with Will that she could find to feel badly about; being with Will just felt _right_. 

With her thoughts settled, Mackenzie rose from the bed and shrugged into a heavy robe, luxuriating in its softness, allowing the weight of it to settle into her skin. 

In the absence of any real conscious thought, she put the coffee on and slid a croissant under the broiler, popping it onto a plate two minutes later. Breakfast sorted, Mackenzie sat in peace, sliding out moments of the exquisite night, examining them again and then slotting them back into place. The connection between her and Will was the same as it had always been; they were well-matched everywhere that it counted. It was still there, that unshakable connection, and they would be able to rebuild it, even if today she had woken up to an empty apartment. With a decided nod, she reached for her phone.

_Text to Sloan—I need to get a Christmas tree today. Come along?_ Mackenzie sipped her coffee while she waited for the reply.

_Text from Sloan—The holidays aren’t really my thing, Kenzie._

_Text from Sloan—But, I’ll come over and drink a bottle of wine once you get your holiday frivols home._

_Text from Sloan—If it’s a really nice bottle of wine, I might even help you hang an ornament or two._ Mackenzie smiled at the rapid-fire texts. Sloan communicated differently than she did, and it was something that she loved about her friend.

_Text to Sloan—Fine. I’ll text you after._ She knew that Sloan wasn’t a tree lot and hot toddy kind of friend, but she wouldn’t ever stop trying to infect Sloan with the magic of the season.

Mackenzie took a long shower and moved lazily into drinking a second cup of coffee. She surveyed her living room and shifted furniture to make a space for the tree. Satisfied with the new layout of the room, Mac moved into her bedroom closet, seeking appropriate Manhattan tree-lot clothing, noting with wry amusement that the more likely point of purchase would be a street vendor-- someone close by who would either deliver her purchase or sell her a tree small enough to lug back on her own. Finally, dressed in jeans, tall brown boots, and quilted jacket, Mackenzie surveyed her appearance. She shrugged out of the coat and took a moment to wand some curls into her hair, just enough to give it a bounce. When she rechecked her appearance, the look brought a smile to her face. The lighter look of her hair reflected her inner feelings, soft and joyous. Then, Mackenzie was out the door, buttoning her coat as her elevator arrived. No sooner had she punched the ground floor button than her phone rang. 

“Hey, Maggie,” she said. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“The B team got food poisoning,” Maggie began without preamble. “DC’s board is down, and their tech is stuck someplace… who knows with them… but we’ll have to do the show. What do you want me to do?”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“I’ll be there in 20. Round up the rest of the team?”

“Sure,” Maggie sounded hesitant. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” Mac smiled at Maggie’s audible decision to take on the task at hand.

“And Maggie?”

“Ma’am?”

“Get Sloan. She’s free. We’ll have her co-anchor tonight. Keep it light. There’s nothing too pressing, and we don’t want to perk any ears by having Will on solo the day after Thanksgiving.”

Mac entered the newsroom and surveyed the space. The first person on whom her eyes lit was Neil, dressed in what Mac quickly deemed his usual work clothes. 

“That’s what you wear on your day off?”

“What can I say?” Neil offered with a shrug. “I’m a consummate professional.”

“Or a nerd,” Mac teased as she walked past him toward her office.

“Why can’t I be both?”

She turned back to Neil to find him grinning impishly at her. The laughter that bubbled up in her surprised them both, and he found himself chuckling too.

“Jim here already?” she directed the question to Neil but scanned the room for a sign of him.

“Here, Mac.”

“Jim,” she said, centering herself and shifting into full work mode, “get everyone for a rundown meeting.”

“Yep.” Jim turned immediately to locate the necessary staffers. 

Mackenzie cast a glance toward Will’s office, unsure whether or not she was surprised that it was still dark. 

“He’s not been in yet, Mac,” Neil offered.

“Well, we’ll get started without him and catch him up later.”

The team was assembled in the conference room. No one said anything about Will’s empty seat at the top of the table, least of all Mackenzie. She opened her mouth to begin the meeting, planning to thank them for cutting their weekend short, but before she could form a word, Will came through the door, mumbling an apology for his delayed arrival. When his eyes found Mackenzie, he stopped short, staring. The seconds stretched, and the staff glanced furtively between their two bosses.

“Will, are you going to stand there gawking all afternoon, or do you plan to join this meeting?”

“Yeah- yes. I’m sorry. It’s just… jeans, Mac?”

She rolled her eyes and looked around the conference room, taking in the varied states of her staff.

“You’ll notice that everyone here was called in on short notice. Except Neil. Neil apparently always dresses like this. He’s a consummate professional nerd, you know.” Will stared a moment longer, and Mackenzie huffed. “Alright, time to get serious. Sit down.” Mac smiled in spite of herself. She hadn’t planned on seeing Will today, but she couldn’t have staged it better if she had known that their paths would cross. Will had always been a sucker for her legs, especially her legs in jeans.

When she turned toward the monitor on the wall, she was again halted, this time by Sloan’s entrance. 

“I didn’t know it was casual Friday,” she said, taking in the room. “Minus five points, Maggie, for leaving that out.” Mackenzie groaned in response. 

“That’s enough! Out of all of you. This should be a light day, a fluff show. Can we please focus? Just enough to get through this meeting?”

“No,” Will said, effectively throwing an emergency brake into the gears of the rundown meeting. He stood and turned toward the door. “I’m sorry. Mac, could I see you in my office for a minute, please?”

He exited the conference room, and the staff stared after him, some slack-jawed. They hadn’t felt this much tension from Will since Mac’s first day in the newsroom. Mac offered them a smile and a dramatic shrug.

“He must have had some bad turkey.” Her quip diffused their nervous energy, and they smiled back at her. “Jim, put something _\- anything-_ on the board. It’s the day after thanksgiving. Really, this can’t be that hard. I’ll see if I can smooth our ruffled anchor.”

“Co-anchor,” Sloan interjected.

“For to-day,” Mac tossed over her shoulder as she left the room. Will stood in his door, waiting for her. The smile that she offered him faltered at the bleak look in his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked reflexively. Her face clouded with concern, and her hand reached for his forearm as she crossed to him. As her hand connected with his arm, his other hand clamped down on her wrist, vicelike and unyielding. He tugged her into his office, hands and arms entangled, and toed the door closed, releasing Mac’s hand to flip the lock closed. “What’s wrong, Will?”

“What’s wrong?” He was louder than he intended to be, and she flinched. He lowered his voice and tried again. “What’s wrong? Jesus, Mackenzie.” He stopped, and she waited. And waited. And waited. “Did I hallucinate last night?”

“No,” Mackenzie shook her head lightly. “I vividly remember last night.” He stared. “Will, I woke up this morning, and you were gone. I think that clarifies your position pretty well. Don’t you?”

“It wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

“Billy… stop.” She reached forward, uncrossing his arms from in front of his stomach and winding her arms around his waist. She pulled herself in close to him, relaxing when his arms found their way around her. “Last night was wonderful. Far and away, the best thanksgiving I’ve had in years.” She paused for a moment. “Even with Leona’s fumbled attempt to land me as a daughter-in-law.” She chuckled roughly. “Do you regret coming upstairs last night?” She felt him shake his head above hers. “Good. I don’t regret it either. We’ve still got it, Billy. It’s in our DNA. And that’s enough for now.”

“But…”

“Do you want me to put pressure on you? Ask you what it means? If you’re ready to forgive me? Pick up where we left off all those years ago?” His head shook again, more violently this time. “So, let it be. It’s enough. For now, it’s enough.”

“I love you, Mackenzie.”

“I know you do. Everything’s going to be okay; I’m sure of it.” She extricated herself from his arms and moved toward the door. “Rundown meeting, Will. Come on in when you’re ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how much I love hearing from you! Let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> Sending you all love and light and health!  
> C


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of my dissertation is due next Thursday, so, naturally, I can focus on everything but that. The upside is that I was finally able to finish chapter 4 of this piece, and chapters 5-8 are well mapped in my head.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

The Friday show passed uneventfully once Mackenzie had settled Will. After the show, Will disappeared almost before Terry Smith had taken the handoff, and Mackenzie went with the rest of the team to Hang Chew’s. Her treat, she told them. It was the least she could do after dragging them all in on what should have been a holiday. 

They had been at the bar for more than an hour, and Will had yet to make an appearance, though Mackenzie had texted him to invite him to come and ‘be merry’ with the staff.

Mac was seated at the bar, Sloan on one side of her, Don on the other. She was pretending to understand the conversation on economic policy that the two were having across her. There was a tension between them that Mac hadn’t noticed before, and she made a mental note to pay closer attention to the dynamic between them. Mac felt a tap on her shoulder and rotated almost entirely in her seat to find Jim, smiling at her and looking sheepish. There was a bright, slightly smudged lipstick imprint on his cheek, and Mackenzie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Just wanted to say good night before I left,” he responded, not hiding the evasion to her question. Mac didn’t respond but instead offered a questioning expression. “I… I don’t know, Mac.” She shrugged once and let it drop.

“Good night, then. Have a good weekend. Monday, we start the December calendar, alright?”

“Yep. Night.”

She watched him leave the bar and was about to turn back to Sloan and Don when she caught a flash of blonde hair on the sidewalk just out the front door. Jim put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders, and the pair left together.

“Interesting,” Mac said to herself, twisting back to the doctoral-level economics lesson happening around her. She adjusted her blouse, which had shifted when she turned to address Jim.

“Oh my god,” Sloan gasped, cutting off her own sentence. 

“What?” Mac’s eyes flew open in alarm, and she turned quickly to Don, seeking the source of Sloan’s incredulity.

“Mackenzie! You’ve been holding out on me. Who is he?”

Don looked as confused as Mackenzie felt until Sloan’s fingers traced just inside her blouse line, tugging the fabric back just a little. The bruise was more than noticeable, and Don’s face colored as he connected the dots. Mac snatched the material out of Sloan’s hands and opened her mouth once, then again, before shutting it with a snap.

“I didn’t realize you were seeing someone, Mac,” Don said quietly, tipping his glass to her. “Good for you.” His words were sincere, and she ached for him. He wanted so badly to find his someone, and Maggie just hadn’t been it.

“Good for her, nothing!” Sloan interjected. “Kenzie! Who? What? When? Where?”

“You know, Sloan,” Mac began with a wry smile, “I think we’ve just uncovered why you’re an economics reporter and not an investigative one. No tact.” She produced a credit card and signaled to Chelsea behind the bar. “I’m headed home, Chels. Would you cash everyone out at the end of the night and hang onto that until tomorrow?”

“No problem, Mac.”

“Thanks.” She pulled three one-hundred-dollar bills from her bag and handed them to Chelsea. “You’ll let me know if that doesn’t cover the tip?”

“That’s too much, Mackenzie,” Chelsea said.

“Mmmm,” Mackenzie cast a meaningful glance at Gary, Kendra, and Tamara, who were now standing on a low table, swaying and singing. “Somehow, I fear it isn’t enough.” She squeezed Don’s arm and pressed a quick kiss to Sloan’s cheek. “Night, you two. I think I’m done for the day.”

“Kenzie,” her name was almost a whine on Sloan’s lips.

“Good night, Sloan.” There was no room for argument in her tone, and Sloan turned sullenly back to her drink. 

When Mac reached the door, she turned back to survey her crew. The kids were still on the table, but they didn’t seem rowdy. Don had slid one seat closer to Sloan, and she was trailing her fingers up and down his arm.

Very interesting, Mackenzie thought.

The next morning, Mackenzie bought a tree from the closest corner vendor and tugged it home without much fuss. By noon, Sloan had arrived, having decided that decorating was a small price to pay to pry details out of her best friend. By three-thirty, the tree was indeed a sight to see, and Sloan was surprised by how much she had enjoyed the process.

“Almost makes me feel sentimental,” Sloan murmured.

“Sloan, don’t tell me that you’re feeling the Christmas spirit!” Mackenzie feigned shock. “Never let it be said!”

“Very funny, Kenzie. I guess there might be something, just a little something, to this decorating thing.” Her phone pinged, and she smiled at the notification. “I think I’m going to ask Don out.”

“What?” This time Mackenzie didn’t have to feign the emotion. “You and Don?”

“I know, right? But, I’m telling you, there’s something intriguing happening behind that dumb look he wears.”

“Sloan!”

“Seriously. What do you think?”

“I think he’d be lucky to have you.” Mackenzie paused for a moment, considering the idea. “And it might be exactly the right move for you.”

“Maybe he’s free tonight,” Sloan said, opening her phone.

Before Mackenzie could respond, her own device lit up. She answered the call without thinking.

“Hi, Billy!”

Sloan’s eyes blew wide, and she dropped her phone into her lap, text to Don momentarily forgotten.

“What does he want? It’s a Saturday! Why are you using dumb pet names with him?”

The rapid-fire questions earned her a stern look from Mackenzie, who ducked into her bedroom and shut the door with a decisive snick. A few minutes later, Mackenzie reemerged from the bedroom, flushed and looking distracted. Sloan assessed the situation and decided that Will being an ass to Mackenzie -again- did not rise to the level of her needing to cancel her date with Don.

“I have a date tonight,” Sloan said, setting her phone on the mantle while she tugged on her coat. “I need a manicure.”

“I hope it’s a wonderful date!” She gave Sloan a quick hug. “I appreciate your help with the tree. It’s so much nicer to decorate with someone.”

“This was… nice,” Sloan said in a moment of real sincerity. “Wish me luck!”

With that, Sloan was gone. Mackenzie had time only to fluff her hair and uncork a new bottle of wine before a knock sounded at the door.

“Hi Mac,” he said when she opened the door.

“Come in, Billy.” She shut the door behind him and spoke before she turned around. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

She poured two glasses and handed one to Will. For a moment, they stood in the kitchen, silently sipping the crimson liquid. 

“What’s up, Will?” she queried at the same moment that he spoke.

“Your tree looks nice, hon.”

They shared a laugh and returned to their wine. After another moment, Mackenzie turned to refill her glass; without words to distract them, she had drained her fist glass more quickly than she intended. She felt more than heard Will behind her. He took the wine glass from her hand and set both his and her glass on the counter. Mackenzie had only a breath to register his intention before his mouth crashed into hers. The kiss was full of emotion, containing all of the things that Will had come to say but couldn’t bring himself to speak into existence.

Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Will, linking her hands behind his neck, stretching to meet his mouth. Will lifted her, setting her on the counter and purchasing himself easier access to her mouth. Hungry hands tugged her shirt from her body and tossed it behind him; his shoes hit the floor as he toed out of them. Mac’s legs wrapped around his waist without consent from her; they were working from instinct, a seemingly unlimited desire for each other driving their motion. Will pulled his face back for a moment, caught Mackenzie’s face between his hands, and smoothed his thumbs down her cheeks. For the span of a few heartbeats, they stared into each other’s eyes; the intimacy of the moment ratcheted up on an exponential scale. Mackenzie’s eyes slipped first, lowering to stare at Will’s lips. She ran her tongue across her own lips, and Will dove headlong back into kissing her.

Neither Mac nor Will heard her front door open and were unaware of a third person in the space until they heard Sloan’s voice.

“Kenzie, I left my phone by the… what in the actual fuck is going on here?” 

Will started to spring back from Mac, but her arms remained locked around him. With abject horror, Will watched Sloan retrieve Mac’s shirt from the floor. 

“Looking for this, Kenz?” 

She passed the shirt to Mackenzie, who tugged it on with a smile and a quiet thanks. Fully clothed, she finally disengaged her body from Will.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Mac said. Will seemed more than happy to let her field this response.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like you’re making out with Will in your kitchen.”

“Okay, that part might be exactly what it looks like.”

“As much as I would really—really—love to stay and unpack all of this,” she gestured to the space between Will and Mackenzie with an eye roll, “I just needed my phone.” She turned, spotted her phone on the mantle, and retrieved it. “Mackenzie, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, hint of amusement in her voice.

“Bro,” Sloan offered to Will, cutting her eyes at him as she acknowledged him.

“Sis,” he responded weakly. 

Sloan left, calling out as she pulled the door closed behind her, “lock the damn door next time!”

Will stepped back, aggressively raking his fingers through his hair as he looked at Mackenzie, who had lifted her wine glass and was taking a long sip.

“How can you be so calm?” he demanded in the face of her serene expression.

“Prescription drugs,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not kidding, Mackenzie. Two nights ago, we shared a bed. And then yesterday morning, I… I left you. Snuck out like you weren’t _you_ and left you.” He spoke with finality, with an intentionality that startled Mackenzie.

“Was that, oh my god, Will,” she began, feeling her world tunnel in around her, “was that some sort of fucked up payback?” She felt the air go out of the room. They had met at the Skinner’s by accident, and she had assumed that they had engaged earnestly with each other, that there were honesty and a complete lack of malice in their encounter. Mackenzie gripped the edge of the counter with both hands and felt her knuckles go white. It was instinct that pushed her into a rhythmic breathing exercise, keeping the floor solid beneath her feet.

“No! Fuck. No. Mackenzie!” He was shouting, her face drained of its color, eliciting panic in him. He gripped both of her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Mackenzie, honey, open your eyes, and look at me.” She opened her eyes, meeting his with dread. “It wasn’t payback. It was me. I…” He tugged her down until they were both seated on the floor, his arm draped around her shoulder, keeping her physically close to him. “I woke up, and you were _there_.”

“Of course I was _there_. It’s my house.”

“I woke up, and I was here.” He paused to give her time to interject. When she didn’t, he continued. “And I wasn’t prepared for that. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how I felt. So, I left.” He felt her stiffen, gearing up to respond, and he raised a hand. “Hang on.” She nodded silently. “I know it was selfish. I’m sorry for that.” She nodded again, and for a breath, they marveled at how they still had the ability to read each other’s minds. “I couldn’t discern my feelings laying in bed next to you.”

“Ah, Habib.”

“Obviously, discern is his word and not mine.” She pursed her lips and offered a small hum before he spoke again. “When I’m with you, the only thing in the world that matters is being with you. And then, the moment I’m away from you, I panic, and then I close myself off. I didn’t want to do that again.”

“So, you left.”

“So that’s exactly what I did. And then you were…”

“I was fine.”

“I… I still don’t know how to process that.”

“You wanted me not to be fine?”

“No! No. I had just prepared myself for loathing or anger or hurt… anything but fine.” When she didn’t respond, he took a deep breath. “I was planning to clean up the hurt, whatever mess I had left. I was planning to try to fix it. I just had to get my feet back under me.”

She wriggled a little, creating enough distance to reach for their wine. Then, she settled back on the floor, tight against him.

“And when you came here today?”

“I came to work through all of it. Together.”

“I think we were less successful at working than at other things.”

“Before we were interrupted.”

Mackenzie’s eyes widened as she processed the interaction.

“Oh, Will.”

“What?”

“Everyone will know. Sloan has a date with Don tonight.”

“Okay, well, we’re going to revisit that little factoid later. Are you concerned that people will think we’re together or that they won’t?”

She took a long sip of her wine. Her world was returning to its axis, but her response to Will’s potential betrayal had shaken her. Was she really as fine as she said she was? It wasn’t until Will jostled her a little that she responded.

“Hmm?”

“You worried they’re going to think we’re back together?” He paused, brows knit together for a moment. “Or that they’ll think it’s a fling?”

“Honestly, I’m worried about what you’d worry about.” When Will didn’t respond, she continued. “You’re still figuring out how you feel about me. About us.” She paused to give him a chance to refute her claim. When he didn’t, she pressed on. “My initial thought was about what you would think. I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to staff to know that you’re fucking your producer.” 

“Mackenzie,” he growled, stemming the flow of her words, “we aren’t fucking. Christ.”

“No?” This felt more comfortable. Mackenzie’s certainty returned as quickly as it had fled her, but she made a mental note to examine the emotional whiplash she had experienced. She hadn’t been wrong about what she felt when they were together. He might need more time, but he would come back around. “What would you call that then, Billy?”

He stammered, desperately searching for a word that wasn’t cliched. After a few false starts, Mackenzie laughed. And then Will began to chuckle. They laughed together, allowing the mirth to envelop them. After a few moments, Will craned his neck around to be able to meet Mackenzie’s eyes.

“I should be so lucky.” She gave a quizzical expression in response, and he smiled. “To have the staff think that my wildly talented, best EP in the business would stoop to having some sort of affair with me.”

Now Mackenzie smiled. She rose gracefully and turned to offer Will a hand up. She was still stronger than she looked, he noted as she tugged him off the floor.

“Your back is going to freeze up sitting on that floor.”

“I’m not ancient, Mackenzie,” he said, cringing when both knees popped as he rose.

“Sorry, what was that, Billy? I couldn’t hear you over the groaning of those old bones.”

“Still young enough to do this,” he said emphatically, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you anymore.”

“Did I ask you to keep your hands off of me?” she asked against his mouth. He shook his head. “Then I fail to see the problem.”

He kissed her again, letting himself sink into her for long moments before stepping back and putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Sloan’s on a date with Don?”

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p’ sound and grinned. “The Christmas spirit moved her, I think, to gather her rosebuds.”

“You and that inane poem.”

“It’s not inane. It’s…” she shuffled through a series of descriptors before landing on one that she liked, “applicable.” 

The silence returned then, and they stood staring at each other, processing the events of the last three days.

“I love you, Mackenzie.”

“I love you, too, Billy.”

“I want to be able just to pick up and move forward. With you. Together.”

“That isn’t how it works, and you know it.” She took his hand and tugged him toward the couch, gently illuminated by the glow of the Christmas tree. Once they settled, she continued. “You have to keep doing the work. Forgiveness, acceptance. All the stuff that you don’t like to deal with.”

“You sound like Habib.”

“You’re not the only one with a good therapist, Billy.”

“I _want_ to understand why I’ve been so irrationally angry. Why I can’t step back, look at the facts, and process that you were right. How did you say it? At the beginning, we _were_ just dating. That’s the thing. I know in my mind what path I need to take.”

“Your heart’s always been a little slow to catch up with the rational side of you.” He cut her a sidelong glance. “I’m here. I’ve been here. And I’m not going anywhere while you’re doing the work.”

“Can you forgive me?”

His quiet question caught Mackenzie off-guard, and she allowed herself a moment to process it.

“I was angry. I was so angry with you. For years. And then, thank god for therapy, I was able to understand that your response to me wasn’t about me. At least it wasn’t only about me. Then it hurt less, and it was easier for me to come to grips with it.” She took a long sip of her wine. “Yes, Will. I’ve forgiven you. You’re a part of me, and I’m a part of you. So while I had to do my own work to get there, forgiveness is always something I’ll be able to give you.”

“I’ll get there, hon. I’m just…”

“Behind the curve,” she supplied when he trailed off. He nodded.

Mackenzie set her wine glass on the table in front of her and shifted on the couch, planting herself in Will’s lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, then smoothed the furrow in his brow with her thumbs. As the tension began to drain from him, he wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed into him.

“I’ll get there, Mackenzie.”

“I know you will.”

They stayed that way, wrapped up in each other until the position grew uncomfortable. The sun had long since set, and the emotional labor they had done had taken a toll on them both.

“Do you want to stay over?” she asked, climbing stiffly from his lap.

“Do you want me to stay over?” He rose too, taking a moment to stretch. When she wrinkled her nose at him, he shrugged. “Sorry. Yes. I would like very much to stay with you tonight.”

She smiled and moved toward the bedroom. Will followed her, knowing this was where he belonged, even if he still had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come... I promise!
> 
> I always love to hear your thoughts! (Everyone's feedback on the last chapter is how Mackenzie ended up with a short-lived crisis of confidence in this chapter lol)


End file.
